


Hannibal Makes a Friend

by RedFive



Category: Hannibal (TV), National Football League RPF
Genre: Abigail Hobbs Lives, Because you're going to be eating them till you vomit, Brady-Lecter Best Friends Forever, Coming Soon to TB12.com E-Lecter-lytes, Episode Fix-It: s02e13 Mizumono, Hannibal crack, I Was Literally Born To Fulfill This Request, I hope you like Avocados Will, M/M, Pliability, The Best Prompt Ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 17:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13194780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFive/pseuds/RedFive
Summary: What if Will and Hannibal ran away together after the lamb was served? What if nobody died? What if nobody got hurt? What if they moved to Boston and Hannibal became best friends...with Tom Brady.





	Hannibal Makes a Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HotSauce418](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotSauce418/gifts).



> Wrote this for Hotty (who is AMAZING btws and gives the best prompts) by request awhile back but forgot to post to AO3. Please enjoy some Tom Brady/Hannibal Lecter crack on me! AND LET'S GO PATS!

_“We could disappear now. Tonight. Feed your dogs, leave a note for Alana, and never see her or Jack again. Almost polite.”_

…

 

MONTHS LATER:

Will hated grocery shopping with Hannibal. It was like taking a toddler to toy store, a giant toddler with murderous tendencies and the skills to do quite a bit of damage. Drop your guard for even one moment and he’d vanish in an instant only to resurface ten minutes later with an armload business cards and exotic (overpriced) ingredients that once claimed, were his and there was nothing Will could do about it. He knew Hannibal missed his large kitchen and basement lair and tried not to make a fuss about the small indulgences, but it wasn't easy when might spend as much as $30 for a bottle of clam juice. 

Hannibal was performing one of his disappearing acts when Will found him in the produce section speaking with tonight's first course. But as Will watched, he noticed that Hannibal’s body posture was unguarded and genuinely friendly. This wasn't a mark. This was somebody who had somehow managed to break through the person suit and stimulate Hannibal's nimble mind, which made Will curious about the other man.

He was taller than Hannibal by several inches, lean, but very broad in the chest and shoulders. His hair was a mouse brown, freshly cut, and...

“Impossible. It’s impossible,” Will muttered. He knew that face. Who the fuck didn't? Will blinked and looked again but the image in front of him did not change. With that dimpled chin there was no mistaking it; Hannibal was standing shoulder to shoulder fondling avocados with Tom Brady, football legend and star quarterback of the New England Patriots.

Hannibal said something that made Brady laugh loudly. It was a laugh that carried itself above the ambient noise of the store, a laugh that had made countless defenses shit their pants in the fourth quarter. Then they shook each other's hands, and Hannibal gave Brady HIS business card before they said their goodbyes.

Hannibal spotted Will lurking behind a display of chips and salsa and waved him over.

Will stayed hidden until he was sure Brady was gone. “Hannibal...what the hell!?”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow in alarm at the mention of his given name and shushed him. “Careful, _dearest_. I would not want to move again now that I am finally making friends in the area. And Abigail seems quite happy in her new school!" 

“Friends? WITH TOM BRADY!? ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!”

“Shhhhhh!” Hannibal said more insistently and grabbed Will with the hand not gripping a bag of avocados. He lead Will away from the fruits and prying eyes that were beginning to pay too close attention to the two fugitives.

“ _Sweetheart_ ,” Will said through gritted teeth. “Would you care to explain how you became bosom mates with the greatest quarterback of all time in less time than it takes to make nachos in the microwave?”

“So he is good then? I wondered about that. He seemed like an honest fell, but I confess that my knowledge of American football is rather limited." 

Will opened his mouth and shut it again feeling like he was the fish out of water instead of Hannibal. How did he explain? Super Bowl championships and career touchdown records would mean nothing to Hannibal. “Good is relative. It depends on your allegiances. He’s the Chesapeake Ripper of the game, I'll give him that much.”

That made Hannibal smile. “Well, he is utterly delightful regardless. We have that in common too, I suppose.”

Will snorted, which wiped the smile off Hannibal’s face in an instant.

“Anyway, we met in the urinal,” Hannibal continued.

“Of course you did.” Will said as he and Hannibal joined the nearest checkout line and dumped their purchase onto the conveyor belt. “And what? Bonded over avocados with your dicks in your hands?”

 Hannibal whacked Will on the shoulder with a sour expression on his face. “Don't be crass, Will—ful, boy,” he said covering up his own slip-up.

Will rolled his eyes and paid the cashier in cash. He'd have given anything to have been a fly on the wall during that conversation.

“He has some very funny ideas about food, I found the conversation very engaging. I don't think I believe all his nonsense about electrolytes, but he shared some interesting vegetarian recipes with me that I am quite eager to try.”

“A vegetarian? You?” Christ, it was true what they said about the kool-aid in Boston. One sip and you were Patriots trash for life.

Hannibal smiled and picked up their bags of groceries. “Not as a lifestyle, you understand, but a little change might not be such a bad idea. I changed for you and look at how well that's turned out, my love.”

Will grimaced and thought of all the bodies that had dropped during their courtship—the friends he’d lost, and the enemies he’d gained—but he kept those thoughts to himself. Hannibal was changed, true, but he was not domesticated. Hannibal still had urges and a powerful need to satisfy those appetites. Bringing up the sins of their shared past would only trigger another hot spell and Will had not yet lined up another playmate for his overbearing pet tiger that aligned with his own standards. Will had become accustomed to murder, true, but their were limits. Fortunately, Hannibal seemed content to live within those boundaries..for now.

“Hence the two tons of avocados you bought this afternoon,” Will said steering the conversation to safer waters. 

“Yes. For the ice cream," Hannibal said as he popped the trunk before unburdening himself of his purchases and climbing into the passenger seat of their hybrid.

“Who eats ice cream in February IN NEW ENGLAND!?” Will screamed in the parking lot.

Hannibal leaned over the console and honked the horn in response to hurry Will along.

Will sank into his seat with the solemnity of Titanic's madden voyage, shoulders already slumped in exhaustion at the dawn of this new friendship.

Meanwhile, Hannibal buzzed with energy, and it occurred to Will that this wasn't just the first friend Hannibal had made in the area. Brady was his first friend since their flight from Baltimore with Abigail. Will knew he should not fault Hannibal for wanting a type of companionship that he had no interest in providing him. There were certain topics of conversation that Will would sooner swandive off a cliff than spend more than ten minutes discussing with his lover. Hannibal should have friends. It would be healthy for him. Will had Abigail to hunt and fish with. Who did Hannibal have when he wanted to talk about shoes? No one. That wasn't right. Hannibal enjoyed people too much to be alone—even if he enjoyed them in morally questionably ways sometimes.

 But did his _first_ friend since Baltimore have to be—

“Tom says—”

Will started the engine to mask his cackling. “Tom! You call him Tom! Of course you do. Tom. Your new best friend, Touchdown Tommy. Jesus Christ.” It was common in sports culture to refer to athletes by their last name as if it was their first. Most people referred to Tom Brady simply as Brady and everyone knew what they meant by it. It was weird listening to Hannibal refer to the four time Super Bowl MVP like a close friend and intimate.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous, Will, which is rather unbecoming.”

 _Great. Fucking great._ Just when Will thought it couldn’t get worse, it did. This was no different than the expensive pantry items sitting in the trunk of their car. Like a starving dog, Hannibal was taking possession of his new bone.

“JEALOUS!? Jealous? Believe me, I'm not jealous of that overgrown Clydesdale. I'm annoyed. And I'm allowed to be annoyed! Do you realize how many times that man has decimated my team? He's the reason the Ravens got shutout of the Super Bowl in 2011 AND 2015. He’s menace.”

Hannibal smiled, which suggested that he was following some other train of thought since Will knew he couldn’t care less what had happened to the Ravens in the playoffs.

“What’s with _that_?” Will asked.

“With what?” He said in a patient whisper that was all to familiar. 

“With that smile? When you smile like that, someone gets stabbed.” As of yet, that someone had not been Will, and he aimed to keep it that way.

“I just think you should be less quick to judge.” There it was again. The same condescending tone as before, half remembered from the days when Hannibal was nothing more than Will's doctor and friend. 

Will intentionally ignored the bait until Hannibal began to fidget by tapping his thumb on the passenger door

“Why should I be less quick to judge, Hannibal?” Will asked giving up and giving in because sometimes that was the only way do deal with Hannibal's moods. There would be opportunity to pay him back later. It was funny. When Will ran away with Hannibal, he thought their days of playing chase were done except the cat-and-mouse game hadn't ever ended. It had changed, yes. The stakes were lower, but the flow was the same: quid pro quo. 

Hannibal beamed at Will from the passenger seat. “Because in addition to the recipes I picked up, _Tom_ and I had a long conversation about the importance of pliability and how to increase it in men _your_ age.” 

The innuendo was unmissable, and it horrified Will to know that Hannibal had been discussing their sex life with the most hated man in all of football outside of the New England area. “OH NO! No! Nope, nope, nope. You’re not using me as your test subject, Victor Frankenstein,” Will said emphatically. “How could you, Hannibal!? That stuff is...that stuff is private!”

“Relax. You’ll thank me later. At least that’s what _Tom_ says.”

“I hate you. **I hate you so much.** ”

Hannibal was still smiling and staring down the road in the direction of the home with a look of blatant delight and anticipation that spoke of trouble. Will knew he'd be be lucky if they made it as far as the kitchen before they ended up on the ground. Thank God Abigail was studying at the library tonight.

“Even you have to admit, the man does have a lot of experience grooming great receivers," Hannibal said. 

Will groaned. It was Hannibal's first football pun—the first of many he feared. God help them all. “I would like to recant my earlier statement. I hate you...AND Tom Brady.”


End file.
